Rose Samurai: Part Four

Josh Vogt (TheLorian)

The elf silently raised his hands, turning his head to find Flavian’s Evo Surefire SMG trained on his back. He seemed to spend a moment thinking, weighing his options as his forehead began to bead with sweat. He took a gamble and began dashing left and out of the alley towards the building. The second he even flinched, Flavian’s finger tapped the trigger and the gun fired. If the man had been a little slower, he’d have lost his life, but because of his mad dash for the door, he instead had his hand blown off at the wrist. Flavian did not like to be messy and preferred to give criminals quick, clean deaths. He was not a cruel sadistic monster, he only wanted to clean up the streets. If he were to let them get to the courts, to jail, they’d only be out a few months later, or there’d be a miss-trial or some other corrupt way of saying they don’t care about keeping the streets safe.

Flavian followed after him hastily, carefully like he was trained, leveling the gun as he turned the corner only to find the man already slipping into the front doorway. Cursing, he followed after the man into the building, shutting the door behind him quickly before turning to face his fleeing enemy. The man was scrambling to open the door on the other side of the small space with his slippery, blood-soaked hands as tears streamed down his cheeks, and it made Flavian quite sad to see him so in pain. It should have been quick, painful for but a moment. The best thing he could do for this city would be to ensure that man never recovered to sell more drugs, never ruined any more lives.

Turning around in utter defeat, the man cried, “Please, I can give you all of the drugs for free! You don’t need to do this!”

“There is no better way, no higher path! It does not work!” Flavian spat, aiming the gun at the man for the last time before he unloaded on him.

Flavian emptied half of the clip on the man before he stopped, panting from his short fit of rage. He did not like having to do things like that, but if he didn’t, then he was not sure there would be somebody else that would. The body fell to the floor, hardly recognizable in the dim light of the room, and Flavian sighed with a tinge of sadness. He truly did regret ending a life in so vicious a way, but this was a war, his war, and in war, there are casualties on all sides involved. 

He opened the door to the next room, looking to the right down the hallway that appeared before him. A split second was all he had in warning as a machine yelled something incoherent. Suddenly, small bursts shook the wall to his left and there was a burning sensation in his left arm as something tore through just below his shoulder. He leaped backward before he could even get a glimpse more than a flash of metal barrels jutting from some strange base. It had to be some kind of motion sensor automatic gun that had fired at him. 

“Target lost, ceasing fire,” came the same voice after he was back out of view. 

Flavian was alarmed, and the pain of his wound was not yet affecting him, so he ignored it for now. He thought about the turret and how he would be able to face that with his limited armaments and abilities. Accidentally, he threw his hands to the side in exasperation. One crossed briefly into the other room, causing the machine to fire soon after, absolutely destroying the wood paneling and revealing the inside of the wall, dusty and full of rats.

“Target acquired, invalid RFID, opening fire,” it began. “Target lost, ammunition at 70%.”

Ammunition, he had not thought about the ammunition at all, and suddenly a wonderfully childish idea occurred to him. He reached his hand out once more, almost immediately retracting it for fear of it being shot right off of his wrist as his recent victim’s had. He listened for the machine, and it answered, this time having expended another 15% of its ammunition on the wall, which was good news for Flavian. He smiled to himself at how silly and obvious of a solution this was. He repeated the process until the turret began to repeat a single phrase.

“Ammunition, empty, please reload,” over and over again.

Flavian made it out of that hellscape on a technical difficulty that he would never forget, and he knew at that moment that someone was watching over his crusade, that he was on the right path.

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